


Treading Icy Waters

by windlily



Category: Bleach
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-08-05
Updated: 2011-08-07
Packaged: 2017-10-22 05:47:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windlily/pseuds/windlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The board has been laid out. The pieces have been set and moved. The pawns are scattered across the floor, and Ichimaru’s fingers are wrapped around a stark white bishop. “That’s another check, little taichou.”</p><p>The game has only begun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shattered

  
_“This only is denied to God: the power to undo the past.”_

 _-Agathon_

* * *

It was cold. An unnatural, enveloping cold that numbed the senses, plunging him into a world of hazy truths and etherealities, none of which made much sense and yet felt as if they should have. It was too cold.

This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing for the young, white crowned captain. The cold was his life’s blood. It was his energy, his motivation, his love, his very being. It fueled him, drove him to its ends, which were his own ends. He was the cold.

But somehow this wasn’t the cold as he knew it. That full-to-bursting feeling crawling tantalizingly across his nose and cheeks as if it were caressing him, leaping from his lips as if to iterate what he himself could not. That powerful force, stopping its enemies and allies alike as it surged onward toward its goal, leaving its signs behind long after it had gone. The cold had always been so fulfilling. It had held within it a completeness, a wholeness. It had kept him sane, that cold. That icy dome of protection he had wrapped around himself and others throughout his life.

It wasn’t here now. That completeness. This cold that attached itself to him like a bloodthirsty leech was empty. Lacking. Dare he say it, _hollow._ And just like a leech, it also pulled from him everything he knew himself to be. It drained him of himself, his essence. His emotions, his passions, his life.

It drained him of his blood.

What could do that? What sort of force could make him feel so unlike himself? What sort of force could eat him alive like this, literally and metaphorically?

In an attempt to keep himself from brooding further, he tried to open up his quickly fading senses. It took surprising effort, but finally, though vaguely, he could hear voices through the entangled mists.

Matsumoto’s concerned fretting, urging something. She wanted something done, needed it. Immediately. There was no time to spare. “Get him over here, now!”

What was the matter?

Kuchiki’s solemn apathy. He was pushing something aside; the blame was not his to bear. “He brought it upon himself.”

Brought what?

Unohana’s soft but stern commands. She wasn’t sure there was anything she could do. She wanted to know a reason. “Why was it allowed to progress this far?”

What were they whispering about? Or were they yelling?

Abarai’s gruff interruptions. He didn’t understand what was happening, but he was in the middle of it anyway. Typical Abarai. “What the hell’s wrong with him anyway?”

Why was everyone so upset? Was something wrong?

Ukitake’s inquisitive entrance. He was concerned about something, though he was silent about it. Somehow, that tense silence was so clear it punctuated as if it were a scream.

Something was definitely wrong. What were they talking about? Who were they so concerned about?

Rukia’s hesitance matched by Kurosaki’s boldness. Why were their voices mixed with those of Seireitei? They were just as demanding as the others. “I don’t know what happened.” “Of course, we don’t know! He was fine a second ago! Then he just…!”

Who…?

Suddenly, another voice. From another time, another place. Was that…?

“Hitsugaya Toushirou. I believe they are speaking of you.”

It was.

Hyourinmaru.

Then it hit him. Everything. Like a bulldozer forcing itself upon his unsuspecting consciousness.

Aizen. Betrayal. Blood. Hinamori. Arrancar. Matsumoto. Ukitake. Hell Butterflies. Kuchiki. Karakura. Urahara. Tatsuki. Hollows. Blood. Shadows. Strangers. Poison. Kurosaki. Blood. Masks. Lights. Music. Arguing. Quincy. Pain. Haineko. Secrets. Desperation. Karin. Reiatsu. Confusion. Ichimaru. Silence. Blood. Aizen. Betrayal. Blood. Hinamori. Arrancar. Matsumoto. Ukitake. Hell Butterflies. Kuchiki. Karakura. Urahara. Tatsuki. Hollows. Blood. Shadows. Strangers. Poison. Kurosaki. Blood. Masks. Lights. Music. Arguing. Quincy. Pain. Haineko. Secrets. Desperation. Karin. Reiatsu. Confusion. Ichimaru. Silence. Blood. Aizen. Betrayal. Blood. Hinamori. Arrancar. Blood. Matsumoto. Ukitake. Hell Butterflies. Kuchiki. Karakura. Urahara. Tatsuki. Hollows. Blood. Shadows. Strangers. Poison. Blood. Kurosaki. Blood. Masks. Lights. Music. Blood. Arguing. Quincy. Pain. Blood. Haineko. Secrets. Desperation. Karin. Blood. Reiatsu. Confusion. Ichimaru. Blood. Silence. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. BloodBloodBloodBloodbloodbloo-

 _The game is almost over, little taichou._

Hitsugaya bolted upright, pupils constricting into near nothingness within his alarmed but alert icy blue irises. The real world, composed of three dimensions, colors and shapes instead of hazy mists and fragments of disembodied conversations, peered overwhelmingly back at him through the painful vision his migraine was oh-so-charitably offering him.

The others were a short distance away, whispering intensely amongst themselves. No doubt they were trying to find complete answers by combining the bits and pieces the light haired shinigami had offered each one in turn throughout the past few weeks. Kurosaki though, was a little farther to the left of the group, trying his hardest to look uninterested in the quarrels that were excluding him. So as luck would have it, and it seemed it always did, the redheaded delinquent happened to be the first to notice he was awake.

“Oi, Toushirou! Great! I thought you might've died!”

“It’s Hitsugaya-taichou!” the boy angrily shouted, ignoring the pounding in his head and the pains in his abdomen as he forced himself to his feet.

This was a very bad idea. The moment his bloodstained, bare soles had the slightest ounce of pressure exerted upon them, all hell broke loose within the young prodigy’s body. White hot flashes of pain seared through his every nerve simultaneously. His mind reeled in the agony. This couldn’t be happening. It just couldn’t. He could no longer focus, no longer try to understand. His infamous genius had abandoned him days ago. All he knew now was the never ending torture that was currently wreaking havoc upon every inch of his dilapidating flesh, inside and out.

“Toushirou! Oi! Oi, Toushirou!”

“What is he doing on his feet? He could kill himself!”

“What the hell is going on?”

“For goodness sake! Somebody please get him back into bed!”

The Tenth Division Captain grasped his head instinctively, even though his entire body was in pain. It felt as if his very bones were melting. His eyes were being gauged with knives. His eardrums were exploding. His throat was lodged by a million tiny needles. His muscles were bursting. His skin was rotting away. Every internal organ within his body was being eaten alive.

And yet somehow they weren’t.

 _Wow. This is more fun than I thought it'd be._

“EEEEEEEEAAAAGGGHH!”


	2. Open and Close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matsumoto’s playful mood seemed to vanish in an instant. She lowered the envelope, running her free hand through her wavy tresses. A single sigh escaped her lips before she once again found the courage to look her captain in the eye. “Have you... seen Hinamori yet?”

  
_“What I give form to in daylight is only one per cent of what I have seen in darkness.”_

 _-M. C. Escher_

* * *

When had it really begun, the youngest of the Gotei 13 captains wondered. There were many points in time which could be considered as the beginning. There was the very first time he had met Aizen Sousuke, when the man had still held a higher rank than he. There was the decision to have the younger Kuchiki executed, the moment that man’s plans finally set into motion. There was his fight with Ichimaru Gin, during which the two of them established themselves as true enemies. There was his utter and complete defeat at the hands of Seireitei’s betrayer, when he first had a taste of his growing doubts within himself. There was his first step into Kurosaki’s classroom, the battles they shared with the Arrancar, and Hinamori’s plea to redeem her former captain.

But, he firmly decided, those were really all just exposition. They composed only the overture to this epic. And this epic was merely a stanza within the entire compilation. The best place to begin was probably when he had been summoned back to Seireitei from the human world, after Inoue’s capture.

Which was exactly what he believed it to be. A capture. Although Matsumoto had definitely connected far more effectively with the eager high school girl than her commanding officer, Hitsugaya had seen enough of Inoue in the time spent on her property to understand that she was no defector.

However, orders were orders. As the head of the Tenth Division, he had no choice but to follow through with them despite the bad taste they left in his mouth. Disobeying them would only result in a far worse taste. Besides, he had noted Abarai’s and Rukia’s attempt to slink away unseen after they had reached their intended destination. As long as they weren’t stupid enough to charge into Hueco Mundo and demand Inoue back from Aizen’s Espada, they would be fine.

The young captain groaned, massaging his temples in aggravation. That was exactly what they would do.

“Is something wrong, Taichou?”

Hitsugaya released his fingers from his forehead and looked up over the various stacks of papers and reports littering his desk. Apparently, there had been a lot going on in his absence, and no one had been generous enough to tackle his workload for him. It appeared his third seat had tried his hand at it but had lost the battle before it had even begun. The rate at which the urgent forms came in was just faster than the rate at which he could fill them out and have them distributed. It wasn’t his fault though. Even Hitsugaya could barely keep up with this nonsense. His lieutenant suddenly bending over his inbox, buxom breasts only inches from his nose, wasn’t helping all that much.

“Your monster chest, perhaps?” the boy grumbled as he tried to back as far away from her infamous extremities as possible.

“Ah yes, the wonder twins,” Matsumoto grinned wryly. “Both a blessing and a curse, I tell you.”

“Blessing or curse, they do not belong in my paperwork.”

“Aww, you’re so mean, Taichou,” the blond whined as she stood up straight once again, wagging a sealed envelope accusingly at her boss. “I came in here just to check up on you, but you have to be all antisocial just in case, heaven forbid, some terrible spy catches you being remotely friendly.”

Hitsugaya frowned, drumming his fingers on what little desk was not covered in paper. “And what would you possibly need to check up on me for?”

Matsumoto’s playful mood seemed to vanish in an instant. She lowered the envelope, running her free hand through her wavy tresses. A single sigh escaped her lips before she once again found the courage to look her captain in the eye. “Have you... seen Hinamori yet?”

A sudden rush, a slamming sound, papers flying, and Hitsugaya was on his feet, fists melting into the soft wood of his desk. Matsumoto wasn’t sure what to do at first. She rarely had the chance to see him quite so out of sorts even when it came to the Fifth Division’s lieutenant. And here she'd merely been worried that he’d be brooding. She had not expected any sort of physical reaction. It just wasn’t like him....

“Taichou...”

“I’m going for a walk. Alone.”

And that was that. Hitsugaya Toushirou walked quietly out of the room, without even a backwards glance.

Matsumoto watched him go, unable to bring herself to follow him. Exhaling, she turned away from the door and back to her boss’ desk. There rested all the papers, files, reports, a seemingly endless mountain range. Pouting, she stomped over to the desk, plopped down in her captain’s chair, and began determinedly sorting through the mess.

“He had better appreciate this.”

* * *

Hitsugaya stepped cautiously out into the courtyard behind the Tenth Division Head Quarters. He did not particularly want to run into anyone at the moment. His teal-green eyes cast down on the cleanly cut grass as his sandals pressed it down into the dirt, he made his way toward the fountain in the center.

In a hearty display of pride, the fountain had been emblazoned with the Tenth Division insignia, the Narcissus flower, long before he had come to lead it. It really was a beautiful fountain, he had to admit. Its shape was nothing special, simple in design and material, but when water was added into the equation, every inch of its transparent surface shimmered in the moist atmosphere. Each drop of splayed liquid was crystal clear, and it transferred that clarity to the fountain itself. In all honestly, it looked as if it had been carved from water itself and that its lavenders, blues, and greens were only illusions of a nonexistent solidity.

He sat down on the ring surrounding it, peering into the swirling shallowness.

Yes. Of course, he had. As soon as he had been able to, he had gone to see her. But...

“Hinamori...”

* * *

She needn’t even open the door. She knew exactly who was on the other end. But she was still hesitant to let him in.

Unohana-taichou had seen much of what had transpired between Hitsugaya-taichou and Hinamori-fukutaichou since Aizen’s betrayal. Most of it had ended badly. She knew very well that it would be worse to refuse the boy entrance, but seeing that expression punctuating his young features again was not something she looked forward to.

It was her professional opinion that Hitsugaya was a very capable captain. It was also her professional opinion that as such he placed too much upon his own shoulders. There was only so much a little boy could handle, genius or no.

With a sigh, she slid open the door.

It was, indeed, Hitsugaya-taichou.

“Unohana-taichou,” he let slip, as if caught by surprise that it had been her to open the door for him. “I would... er... Is Hinamori...?”

“She is fine. Her wounds have long since healed. That is not why we keep her here,” the head of the Fourth Division replied as sympathetic as she could muster.

“I understand,” he nodded, averting his eyes. “Where...?”

“I’ll direct you there.”

The two Gotei 13 captains trudged silently on for a moment before the older woman stopped in front of another sliding door, much more private than the sickbeds they had passed on the way. She stepped to the side as she slid the door open so as to allow her companion to pass though. Once he had entered, she closed the door behind him.

The room was plain and for the most part empty. Hinamori sat pensively upon the sole piece of furniture: a bed. She didn’t look up until the door behind her childhood friend had shut completely. Her eyes were still rather bloodshot and the telltale signs of insomnia had in no way released themselves from her haggard face.

The accumulated moist that had recently been hastily smeared across her cheeks told him she had been crying.

“Hitsugaya-kun.”

“Hinamori.”

She smiled, though it was so thin it was nearly invisible. The smallest of chuckles embraced her lips. “You’re back from the living world?”

Hitsugaya managed a little grin of his own. “We arrived yesterday. There wasn’t much ceremony to it, which is probably why you haven’t heard.”

“Did you hear anything about Aizen-taichou while you were there?”

He stiffened, grin dissipated. “No,” he lied resolutely. “Only the Arrancar.”

Hinamori’s smile began to twist into something accusing, disbelieving. “You’re not even going to try to help him, are you? No one is,” she mumbled softly as she turned away from him, staring down at her colorless bed sheets. “As soon as you find out how, you’re going to kill him.” She spoke this last addition surprisingly coldly, matter-of-factly. That was how Hitsugaya addressed people, not Hinamori. Hinamori was warm, gentle, caring, to a fault even. Hearing her use that tone hurt him just as much as the actual words.

Eyebrows furrowed, teeth clenched, he couldn’t help but release some of his frustrations upon her. He did not want to talk about Aizen; he did not want to think about Aizen. Not right now. Not with Hinamori. Not again. “Yes, we are. I will do everything in my power to make sure of it.”

Hinamori’s accusing eyes now met his own once more. They were amazingly defiant considering her personality and current circumstances, yet they also shone with desperation. Was that why she was acting so coldly? Because the emotion was too much? “I know what everyone thinks, I know what it looks like, but I know Aizen-taichou better than anyone and-”

“No, you don’t. Everything he was, all of it, was just one, big lie! Aizen used you! He used all of us!”

“I know!” she hollered back, her voice hoarse. “I know. But... Aizen-taichou... He... He wouldn’t do this without a good reason! I know he has a reason! You'd do something horrible too, if you really believed in why you were doing it!”

The comparison between himself and that traitor was the final straw. “He wants to destroy us all! Is that a good enough reason for you?!”

“Hitsugaya!” Her voice was cracking now as tears flowed anew. The anger in her tone was unmistakable, but angry or not, the passionate scream brought Hitsugaya back to his senses. He stood there silently as Hinamori’s vat-of-chocolate eyes stared him down, tears rushing unbidden down her pale cheeks. He couldn’t believe his lack of self-control. It was stupid, childish. It was inexcusable.

He had crossed the line. He hadn’t done that in a long time. And yet, a growing part of him felt he was somehow in the right. He did not like that part. At all.

“He needs me...” the now deathly quiet voice of his oldest friend, and enemy, whispered through hands clasped helplessly to thin, chapped lips. “Aizen-taichou needs me. If he didn't, then...”

Hitsugaya still hadn’t finished berating himself for his outburst when he heard the broken whispers. He couldn’t take much more of this. Neither her faults nor his.

“It’s obvious which of you needs whom, Hinamori,” he replied just as quietly though void of the frantic emotion of his companion. He could see it in her every move. She didn't know where else to turn; she didn't know what else to do. And the worst part was that he didn't know either. How could she look to him for answers when he could do nothing but yell at her in return? “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do.” He slid open the door and was just about halfway out of the room when he heard her again, voice now more desperate than ever.

“Hitsugaya-kun, please-!”

“It’s Hitsugaya-taichou,” he interrupted with a grimace before shutting the door behind him, just a little bit harder than he had intended.

For a while he didn’t move, not an inch. He had to question whether he was even breathing. His hand was still firmly set onto the edge of the door, his body still facing in the opposite direction. He could hear loud sobbing from the other side of the thin wall.

His hand involuntarily balled itself into a fist.

Aizen was a dead man. And the others wouldn't be far behind.

* * *

Slowly, cautiously, he lifted one eyelid. Hitsugaya frowned, opening his eyes completely. He was looking up at the Tenth Division’s courtyard fountain. Had he really just fallen asleep on the edge of a fountain? Hastily, he jumped to his feet, turning left and right while silently praying no one had seen him. As soon as he deemed that he was truly alone, he marched toward the division’s headquarters and his personal office.

Just how long had he been out? The sun was just now setting. That meant he had been sleeping for at least four hours. He quickened his pace.

What he found though surprised him more than any sort of ridiculous, work disrupting parties he had imagined his lieutenant throwing to smite him for leaving her alone with the paperwork. Matsumoto was fast asleep at his desk, a half-empty bottle of sake gripped loosely between her fingers. This really wasn’t all that surprising unless you considered the fact that she actually had room to lay her head down on the desk.

The endless stacks of papers had diminished considerably for the estimated two to three hours she had actually worked on them. He sighed, removing the bottle from her hand. If she had been drinking, he would have to recheck the last few reports, making sure to erase any random curse words or otherwise insulting profanities and doodles she might have scrawled into the margins. A small, slightly amused grin crawled unbidden to his lips. At least there was one person in this world he knew he could always count on.

To do what, he was never really certain. But he could count on it getting done.

Opening a closet near the door, he produced a blanket and draped it over his fukutaichou’s shoulders. It was as close to “thank you” as he was willing to get at the moment. Doing his best not to wake her, he silently grabbed one of the few remaining stacks of papers and hauled it into a corner. Thanks to Matsumoto’s efforts, he’d probably be finished in a few hours.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t been working for more than twenty minutes when his door was forced open by a panting, rankless shinigami. By his muscular stature and rough appearance, Hitsugaya guessed he was probably from the Eleventh Division. He looked perplexed at seeing Matsumoto at her captain’s desk, not even noticing that Hitsugaya was in the room. Matsumoto’s eyes flitted open, and she lifted her head to glare at the intruding shinigami for interrupting her nap. Or it could have just been a hangover. She didn’t seem to notice her captain had returned either. This served to irritate him a bit. Just a bit.

“Yes?” This caused both the out-of-breath shinigami and Matsumoto to leap to attention and turn toward the Tenth Division head who was currently standing next to a pile of paperwork in the far corner of the room. Matsumoto seemed to notice the blanket laid out across her shoulders for the first time. “You do have a reason for barging in like this, don't you?”

The shinigami hastily stood up straighter and performed an awkward salute. Seeing as Hitsugaya in no way remembered such a salute being appropriate, he chose to ignore it as the man took a deep breath.

“Ukitake-taichou asks that you come to the Thirteenth Division Headquarters immediately! Arrancar have been spotted in Rukongai!”

Over the course of what the shinigami swore couldn’t have been more than a single second, the white haired boy grabbed the finished papers, stuffed them into the shinigami’s hands, and was out the door. Hitsugaya could hear Matsumoto apologizing as the man wailed about not knowing what to do with it all.

 _Yup, definitely Eleventh Division._

“Matsumoto!”

She was next to him in an instant.

“I can think of very few reasons for Aizen to send Arrancar to Soul Society, and none of them are good.”

His lieutenant nodded as they rounded on the Thirteenth Division HQ.

“Be ready for anything.”

Another nod, this time accompanied by a small smirk at her taichou’s commanding tone. It was a far cry from his recent moodiness.

Perhaps this little distraction wasn’t quite so bad, after all. As they say, every cloud has a silver lining. Right?


	3. Unnecessary Interaction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blood spewed from the wound as her upper body lunged forward from the pain he knew her to be experiencing. A pain he intended for her to experience. The unrelenting, unforgiving ice flowed from Hyourinmaru, instantly encasing her before she shattered into a thousand frozen shards before him.

_“Truth sits upon the lips of dying men.”_

 _-Matthew Arnold_

* * *

Ukitake-taichou dropped the pen he had been writing with, turning his head awkwardly to the side to stare wide-eyed at nothing.

What had that been? It had felt faint, not because it was small or weak but because it was an endless distance away. Beyond Seireitei’s walls. It had not quite matched the feeling of a normal hollow nor had it been the easily recognizable signature of a shinigami. It had been far too strong to be an average soul, and it had appeared out of nowhere. He could hardly believe what few possibilities came to his mind. None of them were rational, and none of them were pleasant.

Hastily bringing himself to his feet, he headed for the door and slid it wide open. A hell butterfly met him, zig-zagging mid-flight as if it had been released suddenly and unexpectedly from its small cage to a much larger world it hadn’t quite fathomed as of yet.

He would bet his haori that that was the case. Though not in the literal sense, of course. Gambling was strictly Kyouraku’s area of expertise.

The Thirteenth Division head mentally scolded his wandering mind. Now was not the time.

“Ukitake-taichou, you told us to report anything we found to you immediately.”

He nodded gravely as if those on the other end could see him. “Don’t tell me...” It appeared his theories hadn’t been quite as irrational as he had thought.

“We have detected the reiatsu signatures of two arrancar and a large number of hollows gathered at the edge of Rukongai! There have been no casualties as of yet, but that is only because they didn’t arrive in a rural area. It’s only a matter of time before they get to one! Also-!”

“Ukitake-taichou!”

Said shinigami sighed at the interruption. Sure, when Yamamoto-soutaichou had asked him to take over his duties when he had decided to devote himself completely to the Central 46 and other unspoken but obvious issues, he had been just a little flattered and certainly more than willing. Now though, he understood why the captain commander had not wanted to deal with them. It was just one thing after another....

“Yes?” he asked as the rugged shinigami ran up to his door. “What is it?”

“It’s Zaraki-taichou! He’s... He said he felt something really good and just ran off into Rukongai!”

“That is what we were just about to tell you, Taichou,” from the ebony butterfly. “Zaraki-taichou and Kusajishi-fukutaichou are currently en route toward the arrancar.”

Ukitake didn’t need to be told. He could feel the surge in that fight-crazy man’s reiatsu, burning with excitement as it soared through the districts of Rukongai. He frowned as he tried to assess the situation. Kenpachi was all well and good, but he lacked experience when it came to the arrancar. He was a fairly recent addition to Gotei 13 headship, compared to how long some of the others had been stationed, and had never had the chance to gain that experience. Most of the other division leaders who might have experience in the field were immersed in their own preparations, save one who had only returned to Soul Society the day before. Perfect.

“You,” Ukitake pointed to the huffing shinigami. “Please call Hitsugaya-taichou to my office immediately.”

* * *

It was not long afterward that Hitsugaya Toushirou released himself from his shunpo directly in front of the open door to Ukitake’s office, Matsumoto Rangiku less than a second behind. The sickly captain allowed himself the luxury of a minute grin at the sight of Hitsugaya’s fukutaichou, whom he had technically not asked to come. Seeing those two together, the love-hate relationship masking their deep loyalties, somehow reminded him of Kaien. Kaien and Rukia. Kaien...

The grin hastily shoved itself down his throat as the seriousness in his fellow captain’s voice ground him back to reality. “You wish for me to make sure they don't reach the districts.”

It was a statement, not a question. So he had sensed them as well. It wasn’t as if they were all that unnoticeable, if you were paying attention. They seemed to be making no attempts to hide their presence in the forests skirting the edges of the rural districts. Either they were far too cocky or they knew something he didn’t. It didn’t really matter though. He had no choice but to make absolutely sure they were obliterated with as few casualties as possible. Ukitake nodded, but he noticed Hitsugaya hesitating, something he had certainly not been doing moments before.

“Is something wrong?”

“Of course not,” the young boy replied quickly. “I was just curious. Zaraki-taichou should be able to handle two arrancar of that caliber single-handedly. And seeing as he's veered completely off course, I assume that his lieutenant is already with him.” The humor within his own words was entirely lost on him.

“So why exactly were you summoned?” Ukitake finished for him. “ _Should_ no longer holds any weight around here. We need to be absolutely certain that they are destroyed. Also, I must admit I am not entirely set upon placing my full faith in his renegade reiatsu.” A hint of a smile lit his features before it was bowed away by a cough.

Hitsugaya nodded once his superior’s fit had calmed, though he still seemed the slightest bit reluctant. Ukitake wondered whether it had to do with something more than Kenpachi’s involvement. He resigned himself though, to merely call out a warning as the Tenth Division captain began taking his leave.

“It may be wise not to appear before Zaraki-taichou until absolutely necessary.”

Hitsugaya couldn’t suppress a grimly amused sneer as he and Matsumoto hastily soared into Rukongai. Let Zaraki realize he had been sent back up? Now, that was something he would _never_ do willingly.

* * *

Despite Zaraki’s detour, he arrived at about the same time as Hitsugaya and Matsumoto. The two of them quickly alighted in two separate trees, thankful for the leafy cover. It would provide the same advantage for the hollows, but at least they would be safe from one of the monsters.

Rangiku looked down at the aforementioned monster as he charged through the hordes of hollows, blowing away anything that escaped his zanpakutou with his infamous reiatsu levels. She had to admit, it was a lot of hollows. Even as Zaraki-taichou obliterated them two or three at a time, more seemed to be constantly arriving. Perhaps the portal was still open somewhere. That did not bode well. But that aside, she was surprised at how weak they were. Any shinigami, even fresh from the academy, would have been able to defeat one or two of them on their own. If Aizen was really behind this all, she wondered skeptically, why would he put so much effort into placing quantity over quality when he had accumulated enough Espada to contend with nearly all of the 13 Division heads?

She debated whether or not to point this out to her captain but decided that he had probably considered it already. Pushing away the foliage just enough, she turned her attention away from Zaraki and the hollows and on to Hitsugaya. His expression troubled her. He looked perturbed by something, oceanic eyes flitting frantically across the battlefield below, the rest of his body eerily still. It took her a moment to realize what he was searching for, but when she did her eyes widened, jaw slightly askew. Hastily she too turned back to the hollows. Zaraki, with Yachiru on his back yelling some sort of blissful, gory chant, surrounded by row after row of hollows.

 _Then, where...?_

Where were the arrancar?

* * *

Hitsugaya had felt uncomfortable ever since Zaraki had come so close. He was making no attempts to hold back any of his reiatsu, and that was messing with the younger captain’s senses. It was as if the arrancar had disappeared. He couldn’t see them anywhere, and try as he might to filter through Zaraki’s reiatsu, he had yet to sense them.

Zaraki’s fukutaichou wasn’t helping his concentration any. She was shouting at the top of her lungs, one arm waving in the air, for all the world sounding like an innocent kindergarten girl cheering on her dad during a father-daughter sports outing. “Kill ‘em, Ken-chan! Murder ‘em good! Kill, kill, kill, kill! That one's slimey! Chop it up! Cut its ugly face off!”

She just wouldn’t quit. In fact, she only seemed to get louder, faster, and higher pitched the further she got through the progressively more imaginative chant. He could literally feel the vein bursting in his forehead. He grit his teeth, grinding them together painfully in an attempt to keep his mind off her aggravatingly repetitive cheers.

“You look... annoyed.”

Hitsugaya could feel his shoulders tense, but he did not move. He did not even turn around to face the arrancar that he was positive had just jumped up onto the branch behind him. He allowed the feel of the creature to leak through his senses, and he confirmed what he had believed when he had first sensed the two arancar’s presence. They couldn’t be much more powerful than Shawlong Qufang had been. That meant that even a lieutenant should be able to defeat at least one of them with relative ease. It also meant the enemy should be strong enough to understand the difference in strength, as Shawlong had so clearly been able to do. The young captain’s frown hardened.

“Mildly,” he leveled.

The arrancar chuckled, a school-girl giggle of a monstrosity. Hitsugaya ignored it to the best of his abilities, allowing his eyes to gravitate toward Matsumoto. She was gripping Haineko’s hilt as if her very life depended on it, staring at him determinedly, daring him to ask her to charge. It didn’t look like the arrancar had noticed her, and he did not want it to. When she acknowledged his gaze, he shifted it pointedly down at Zaraki and the rest of the hollows. Frowning in disapproval, she reluctantly let go of her blade and returned to searching for the second arrancar, though he could still feel her steal a meaningful glance in his direction. When the dutiful captain was sure his fukutaichou would not make a move, he finally turned around.

The arrancar was not exactly what he had been expecting. He had yet to meet a female one and had begun to wonder whether they even existed, and yet here, right before his eyes, she stood. Her strange, white uniform was form fitting and tight, with a fair many well placed rips and tears along her joints as well as some less strategically placed ones revealing about as much of her chest as Matsumoto did when she wanted a stranger to buy her another round of drinks. In fact, Hitsugaya had to wonder whether even Matsumoto would be hard pressed to show so much skin unless she had a chance to be rid of paperwork forever. All in all, it wasn’t a very positive first impression.

“You’re pretty interesting. I think I like you,” she (He supposed he couldn’t refer to her as an “it.” Not after seeing that chest.) spoke up with a hint of her earlier chuckle remaining. “A whole lot cuter than that lunatic and his little, pink pet down there at least.”

He couldn’t help it. He twitched. “I. Am. Not. Cute.”

Yet another chuckle. “Aw. Don’t deny it. It’ll only stress you out more, and too much stress’ll give you lots of ugly wrinkles.”

He took a deep breath, standing up from his crouch. The effect wasn’t quite as dramatic as he had hoped. “Why are you here? Who sent you?”

“Right to business then,” the arrancar grumbled, hands on her hips. “You may be cute, but you’re no fun at all.”

Hitsugaya did his best to stay perfectly calm, to not let anything slip. Nothing at all. Something was not right. One word was all it would take and his bankai would finish her in seconds. She must know that. She must have been able to see that from the very beginning, yet she remained so informal. There was not the slightest trace of fear or even concern in her mannerisms. His icy glare bored into her irritated lavender. He would not destroy her until he got some real answers. Finally, she gave in.

“Well, if you’re gonna be so rude about it, I’m here as a messenger on behalf of Tatsujin-sama.”

The Tenth Division head had absolutely no idea who “Tatsujin-sama” was. None of the past arrancar he had faced had referred to Aizen in that manner, but he would have to leave that question for later. “And what message were you sent here to deliver?”

The frustrated pout that had adorned her lips morphed into a very deranged smirk as she shifted her body weight and began her impression.

“‘Welcome back ta Soul Society. Don’t go dyin’ too soon now. P.S. Look out fer your pretty fukutaichou-san. So long for now, little taichou.’”

Hitsugaya’s eyes widened considerably and his complexion paled. There was no more question about it. There was only one man he knew who harbored such a carefree kansai accent used so antagonistically. He knew exactly who had sent these arrancar, and he did not like the odds this information presented. Especially when it came to that post script.

Then, as if on cue, the reiatsu of the second arrancar became crystal clear. It was nearly on top of Matsumoto. This was no time to worry about exposing himself to Zaraki. Stealth was no longer an option.

“Matsumoto!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, charging past the female arrancar toward his second-in-command. “Get down! Now!”

* * *

As soon as the very first syllable of her name had been pronounced, Matsumoto had become alert to the new presence. Unlike the first arrancar, this one was male. He was lithe and lanky, his standard uniform flying behind him in fringe-like wisps as he lustfully jumped down to meet her, zanpakutou clashing against zanpakutou. Sparks flew and, with a grave smirk, she pushed Haineko forward, propelling herself backward until she fell directly in line with her captain.

Both landed forcefully on the ground below, not ten feet from Zaraki Kenpachi.

Matsumoto could hear Yachiru finally break in her singing as she jumped up from Zaraki’s back to the top of his head and pointed enthusiastically in their direction. “Lookie, lookie! Look, Ken-chan! It’s Bitty-taichou and Ookii Ookii!”

Zaraki’s gaze shot menacingly in their direction as she gave a rather sheepish wave. Hitsugaya didn’t even turn to acknowledge him. Instead, he continued to glare the other way as the two arrancar hopped down to meet them. Matsumoto sighed. She had a bad feeling she knew what was coming.

“You little runt!” the Eleventh Division leader shouted angrily at her captain. “You stole my targets from me!” And without wasting a second of time, he abandoned the hollows and ran, zanpakutou ready, at Hitsugaya. The young boy was just as quick as he was though, jumping into the air to avoid the downward swing and landing to the raging man’s side.

“Zaraki! If you want to kill me, do it later! _After_ the arrancar are destroyed!” he scolded, the bitterness in his voice only strengthened by its coldness.

“He’s right, you know. It’s no fun if you fight each other. Than what was the point of our coming here in the first place, ne?” The woman arrancar’s lips had molded back into their former mischievous grin, that playful smirk that told Matsumoto she knew something that they didn’t.

She did not like that grin. And she was doubly bothered by how it seemed to affect her captain. Did that arrancar spill something? Did Hitsugaya know what was going on? If that perturbed expression on his face had anything to say about what was happening, Matsumoto knew it would not be a pleasant evening.

* * *

Hitsugaya needed a way out of this mess. Zaraki was a good ally to have in this sort of situation, but that kind of advantage was currently being hindered by his anger at having been sent help. Hitsugaya wasn't thrilled at the aspect of having another man on his list of people out to slaughter him. Did everyone in this sorry world want him dead? No, he told himself, the irony of it all almost too much for him to handle. Not everyone. Just all the ones strong (or insane) enough to actually go through with it.

“Zaraki,” he heard himself whisper gratingly, “I want this over with as fast as possible. Truce?”

“Only if I get _him_ ,” Zaraki answered firmly, gesturing toward the arrancar who had yet to say a word but whose blood-shot eyes, shark-like incisors, and Kurosaki-sized zanpakutou Hitsugaya guessed had sparked his fellow captain’s morbid curiosity.

Just before Hitsugaya could agree to his terms though, the female took a step forward. “Nuh-uh. We can’t have you doing that just yet. You big, scary shinigami outnumber us two to four! First, we need a level playing field.”

And with that, her companion put his fingers to his lips and whistled. Hitsugaya had never heard a sound like it, save one. The halting cry of a hollow. A hollow calling other hollows to it. His body tensed as he whirled around, vaguely noticing the others do so as well before the hordes of hollows all converged on one spot. Theirs.

He had no time to call the name of his zanpakutou before they were on top of him. In fact, he barely had the time to draw Hyourinmaru from his sheath. It was fairly easy to fend them off at first, but he lacked Zaraki’s untouchable reiatsu and therefore had nothing to keep the slowly rising numbers at bay but his blade. Calling on his shikai or bankai would leave him vulnerable, if even for an instant. He didn’t want that as long as the arrancar were unaccounted for. If he could just find one of them through Zaraki’s radiating bloodlust, he would end this nonsense. He had no time to deal with this; he had much more pressing matters on his mind at the moment.

Like why Ichimaru had sent these messengers. There must be a deeper reason. The message itself sounded as if it was only there to be the icing on the cake. It had only warned him that he'd best do what he already tried to do on a daily basis. It hadn’t given any pertinent or lasting information except who was behind this mess. And all that information did was leave him wanting more.

Hyourinmaru lashed out again and again, almost automatically now, as Hitsugaya’s sight fluttered constantly to and away from the battle at hand, jumping this way and that to avoid the hollows in front only to meet others behind. This wasn’t exactly the best choice of strategy, but with the others as well as the arrancar out of sight, he could think of no other way. Soaring back into the tree cover, he entered shunpo in order to cover more ground faster. There was Zaraki, that one wasn’t hard to sense. Kusajishi was still a minute blotch on top of him. That left Matsumoto... She was a short way ahead.

“Looking for your girlfriend?”

Two hollows, three, hour, five. None of them were small. More were following him. This aimless running was getting him nowhere. But now, at least, he had time enough to call upon his blade. A sardonic smile adorning his lips, he held out his zanpakutou.

“Set upon the frozen heavens, Hyourinmaru!”

* * *

A sideswipe, a frontal thrust, a jump into the air punctuated by a clean cut through a bleached mask before a soft landing in yet another tree. That was three more down, but they just kept multiplying. Hitsugaya wasn’t sure how long he had been doing this. It felt like ages, but it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. This was grunt work. It only took a single swipe to finish them two, three at a time.

Then, as if to mock his very thoughts, one of them, a particularly ugly thing with a flat head composed of almost nothing but mouth, jumped onto his back, clawing at his haori. Angry at his lack of attention, he hastily tore off the traditional clothing, hollow and all, and tossed it out of the tree. The hollow immediately let go, looking for something to break its fall. With an indifferent grunt, Hitsugaya launched himself after it, thrusting Hyourinmaru into its skull in midair before landing.

He landed well enough as any skilled shinigami could. It was not the landing that was the problem. The problem was what landed on him.

“Miss me, cutie?”

He felt the sudden pressure on his shoulders right as his face met dirt. Apparently not as up to wasting time as she had been before, the female arrancar was just able to thrust something sharp and painful into his back before he could force her off. She landed lightly to his left as he stood up straight, wincing at the feel of the open wound.

He had no doubts that the scorpion-like tail protruding from just above her posterior was the released state of her zanpakutou.

“What was that?” he breathed, teeth clenched.

There was that awful chuckle again. “A gift.”

Hitsugaya felt his throat constrict. It wasn’t from his wounds. “From whom?”

“From Tatsujin-sama, of course.” Her widening grin only served to confirm what he already knew to be true. “From Ichimaru-sama.”

He had already figured it out from the message. He had already known, but actually hearing the name finally sparked the match he had been so meticulously keeping under lock and key. There was no turning back now. The match was aflame.

“Bankai!”

He flew forward, aiming Hyourinmaru directly at the arrancar’s stomach. But if he had been expecting any reaction from her, it was most definitely not what he received. As he closed in, inches from her stomach, she was laughing.

She was laughing.

 _"Ryuusenka!"_

Blood spewed from the wound as her upper body lunged forward from the pain he knew her to be experiencing. A pain he intended for her to experience. The unrelenting, unforgiving ice flowed from Hyourinmaru, instantly encasing her before she shattered into a thousand frozen shards before him.

Slowly, stiffly, he released his bankai and sheathed Hyourinmaru. In the same steady fashion he bent down to pick up his haori. He winced at the slight rush of pain that shot through his backside as he did so but caught himself before he did it again when he stood back up.

He looked over at the spot where the Arrancar had been obliterated, still littered with the bloody fragments. He felt the unrealness of the entire situation wash over him like a wave. The Tenth Division captain sat down rigidly, still staring unseeing at the vacant spot before him.

 _She was laughing._


	4. Interrupt Homeostasis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rereading the same passage for the umpteenth time, the frustrated captain leaned his head down on his free hand. Then pulled it away in shock. He stared down at the hand, wide-eyed and disbelieving. What had that been? His frustration now evolving into a serious curiosity, he lifted his fingers to his forehead once more, this time forcing himself to keep them in place for about five seconds. When he removed them they were bright red with blood rush.
> 
> His forehead was burning his fingers.

_“Wastes of Lives—resown with Colors  
By Succeeding Springs—  
Death—unto itself—Exception—  
Is exempt from Change—”_

 _-Emily Dickinson_

* * *

Hitsugaya did not question the fact that no hollows intruded upon him after his final bout had ended. It was obvious that the arrancar, especially the male one, had been controlling them from the start. If he had been able to defeat the woman, then surely Zaraki had defeated the other by now.

The boy forced himself to stand up once again, shaking that last image of the arrancar from his mind. It would not do to dwell on the psychology of the insane. It would only serve to worsen his steadily increasing headache.

Zaraki seemed to have calmed down for the most part. He didn’t have to concentrate quite so hard to locate his companions this time around anyway. Kusajishi was still planted on her surrogate father’s backside, rather more like a convenient outgrowth than a lieutenant in Hitsugaya’s opinion. Those two hadn’t strayed far from where they had encountered the arrancar originally. Matsumoto, on the other hand, was hastily making her way in this direction from quite a ways to his left.

He felt rather than saw her crash down into the foliage beside him. It wasn’t a very graceful landing, but he wasn’t exactly one to talk at the moment.

“Taichou!” she called as she strode the last few meters between them.

He looked up at her for a moment before turning away irritably. Getting stabbed in the back sometimes did that to a person. Not that he’d ever admit to succumbing. “I dealt with it. Zaraki must have defeated the second one by now.” His frown deepened slightly at his wording. So she was back to an it then. He supposed it was just easier that way.

Matsumoto nodded. Just once. Then she froze.

This earned her a questioning glare from her captain as he slowly turned to face her once again. “What?” he asked impatiently.

“Taichou! Your back!”

“What about it?” he hissed.

Hitsugaya watched contemptfully as Matsumoto opened her mouth to reply, but before anything more could actually be said, they were interrupted by a far more trying voice. He would have rather argued hours with Matsumoto than have to deal with her at the moment. Unfortunately, life had a bad habit of ignoring his preferences.

“Ookii Ookii!” came the high-pitched shout as Zaraki Kenpachi stepped into sight, and Yachiru jumped off his wide shoulders in order to latch herself around Matsumoto’s waste. “You guys were gone so long, an' I didn’t get to see you when you got back! Yachiru missed you!”

“I-I missed you too, Yachiru-chan, but right now I’m trying-”

“Woah! What happened to Bitty-taichou?!”

Hitsugaya tried his best not to show his annoyance. He had hoped that Kusajishi would at least distract Matsumoto long enough for him to cover the wound, but now there was absolutely no chance of that. Well, he might as well make the best of the situation; he was stuck with it now. He’d just have to make sure that he didn't flinch, especially with Zaraki around, and find out what had them so irrationally interested in a little gash.

“It’s just a stab wound. I don’t see why you’re making such a fuss over it,” he grumbled to Matsumoto.

“That was a stab wound?” his fukutaichou spat back. He had to admit the look of utter disbelief on her face had him interested now.

“It’s so weird!” Yachiru suddenly called out from behind him. He whirled around to face her, frowning. “It’s all black and funny! And there’s not even a drop of blood!”

Was that... _disappointment_ in her voice? Hitsugaya pushed the thought aside. Frankly, he didn’t want to know. He had heard enough about his wound for now and did not want anyone prying any further. Prying may lead to questions which may lead to answers that he wasn’t ready to give yet. Once he was safely situated between the other Gotei 13 captains and their direct subordinates, looking anywhere except at his own lieutenant, he would be able to relay the information he had learned, but he would not - _could not_ \- do it now. He could not say it if he had to see her expression.

 _Ichimaru..._

“Poke!”

Hitsugaya’s world was flipped upside down and inside out as he was forced from his thoughts into a reality of blinding, ear-splitting pain shooting up his unsuspecting spinal column. He just managed to halt any exclamation that may have jumped unbidden from his lips by twisting jerkily around and leaping backward, away from the small, disastrously curious lieutenant. Wincing as he did so, he stood up to his full height once more, glaring Yachiru into the ground.

So much for not flinching...

“Never do that again,” he hissed through tightly clenched teeth.

Either constant exposure to Zaraki’s killing intent had given her complete immunity or she had interpreted Hitsugaya’s homicidal blood lust as something else entirely because not a second after she received his infamous death glare she giggled and jumped back up onto her captain’s back, clinging to his haori blissfully. “Ken-chan! I found Bitty-taichou’s angry button!” she cheered happily as Zaraki sent the younger boy a demeaning smirk.

Hitsugaya did his best to ignore the duo as he once again donned his haori, covering up the strange wound in a silent but obvious demand that the subject be closed. Apparently no one was listening to his demands today, spoken or unspoken.

“Taichou...” he heard Matsumoto’s concerned tone trail off as she approached him once more.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. But...” Her voice had changed from concerned to stern over the course of only three words, and now it was becoming disturbingly playful. “I’m sure it’s nothing that a looong, relaaaxing night of keeping ourselves warm under the kotatsu in loving embrace wouldn’t fix.”

Hitsugaya felt his whole face rise dramatically in temperature and hastily turned away. “Fine. I’ll visit the Fourth Division. After I file the report for this mission,” he acquiesced, suddenly very interested in a rotting tree that just happened by pure coincidence to be sitting in the exact opposite direction of Matsumoto’s grinning face.

* * *

The walk back was uneventful for the most part. The brat and Rangiku had muttered to each other a bit every now and then, and Yachiru had peeked over his shoulder a few times to point out the scenery, but otherwise it was quiet. Kenpachi didn’t mind though. It wasn’t as if he had much to say.

The arrancar had been disappointing. He had expected something a little more challenging. Then again, ever since his battle (because it was much more than just a fight) with Kurosaki Ichigo even the strongest of opponents had seemed only average. Oh well, he’d just have to wait for these Espada to show their cowardly faces. Then he’d finally get a thrill.

Speaking of thrills, the burly captain turned his head and looked down his shoulder to better see his equal in rank (if slightly lacking in the category of stature). The Tenth Division leader was a fairly interesting guy, Kenpachi had to admit, but he was also far too uptight and prudent for Kenpachi’s tastes.

Usually the kid was very particular about the amount of energy he’d reveal to any given person. In fact, his intense discipline in that area was downright secretive. He held in every ounce of pressure he could muster until a situation came that made its release absolutely necessary. But right now, Kenpachi could sense a steady flow easing from the boy’s body. It wasn't quite enough reiatsu to filter for emotion or motivation, but it was certainly enough to notice. The battle-worn warrior grinned as he turned away.

Maybe the little punk was finally starting to lighten up a bit.

* * *

Hitsugaya stared angrily down at his pen. He wanted to break it in half. He wanted to toss it in a shredder. He wanted to freeze it, then watch it shatter into a million useless pieces.

This, he knew, was what Matsumoto often referred to as “misplaced aggression.” According to his lieutenant, she was his usual target, but today she was a part of what was frustrating him and so the brunt of the blow fell upon his brand new ballpoint pen.

For the first time in decades, Hitsugaya could not concentrate on his work. There were just far too many distractions floating this way and that inside his above-average mind for him to focus on a report chronicling the lack of high quality perfume within Seireitei, submitted by the ever-vigilant Shinigami Women’s Association earlier that morning. Not only did he have a splitting migraine, but he was having serious problems controlling his reiryoku. He hadn’t really noticed it until Zaraki had made a snide joke on the matter, something about testosterone or the like. Hitsugaya hadn’t found it funny. But if even someone like Zaraki who was utterly ill-versed and uninterested in sensing reiatsu was able to see the difference, then that meant there was definitely something wrong. And it also meant that nearly everyone else had to have noticed by now as well.

Then, of course, there was the issue of Ichimaru Gin, the reason Hitsugaya had yet to give in to Matsumoto and visit the Fourth Division. He knew he would have to go eventually, but he had been waiting for her to settle down into her regularly scheduled nap on the couch in the center of his office before he did so. He had an inkling Unohana-taichou would want answers that he didn’t wish to bring up in front of his fukutaichou just yet. But today of all days just had to be the day that she decided to actually do her work.

 _Figures._

Rereading the same passage for the umpteenth time, the frustrated captain leaned his head down on his free hand. Then pulled it away in shock. He stared down at the hand, wide-eyed and disbelieving. What had that been? His frustration now evolving into a serious curiosity, he lifted his fingers to his forehead once more, this time forcing himself to keep them in place for about five seconds. When he removed them they were bright red with blood rush.

His forehead was burning his fingers.

Hitsugaya was certainly stubborn, but he was not stupid. He knew when he was beaten. With a sigh, he set down the pen and stood up. Matsumoto watched him, one brow cocked in what might have been amusement. He frowned agitatedly at her before stepping out from behind the desk.

“Alright, alright. You win. I’m going,” he huffed rather hoarsely.

She smiled, laughing as she too got up and nearly bounced over to her captain, laying a hand on his shoulder. “You see? That wasn’t so hard, was it, Taichou? Taichou?”

But Hitsugaya didn’t respond. He couldn’t. The last thing he remembered was his knees collapsing beneath him just before he retched all over his lieutenant’s shihakushou.

* * *

The Tenth Division captain awoke to a world of nothingness. Literally. There were no walls, no ceilings, no floors, nothing at all. He didn’t even know what was holding him up. It was as if he were simply floating in air, but even air did not seem to exist in this place. Cautiously, the prodigy stood up, surveying his current situation. What to do when you wake up in a mysterious alternate dimension? Apparently he had skipped that class at the Academy....

He was forced from his sarcastic musings rather suddenly by a foreboding shift in the atmosphere. Alert and aggitated, he reached for Hyourinmaru but was stunned to realize the weapon wasn't there. There was nothing strapped to his back. Even the gentle hum that always alerted the boy to his zanpakutou’s presence had vanished.

He was truly alone. But not for long, he frowned.

The person responsible for the ominous shift was coming ever closer, and soon Hitsugaya could hear the soft, steady footsteps and make out the unsettling humanoid silhouette. The wretchedly familiar grin did nothing to assuage his growing fear, confusion, frustration, or rage, but a decade of posturing for the older captains was not about to fail him when he needed it most. The anxious captain watched stony faced as the man came within mere feet of him.

“Ichimaru,” he intoned, his voice a hard, scratchy growl.

Gin’s smirk only seemed to grow in malevolence even though he hadn’t moved a muscle. “Hitsugaya-kun. It’s been a long time, ne?”

“What do you want, Ichimaru?”

The man sighed in mock playfulness. “Really. There’s no need ta be so cold. We’re old friends, after all.”

It took everything Hitsugaya had not to strangle him right then and there. “Answer me.”

“Entertainment.”

Now that threw the boy off completely. He didn’t know what exactly he had been expecting, but he was absolutely sure that this wasn’t it. Entertainment? _Entertainment?!_ Hitsugaya glared into those forever squinting eyes, just daring Ichimaru to continue.

He obliged. “You’da thought what with all those ryoka chargin’ in head first, things would’a been more interestin'. But it seems the Espada’s got everythin’ covered. That leaves me ‘n Tousen with nothin’ to do, so I thought I’d send off a few presents fer my favorite little taichou.”

Hitsugaya couldn’t believe the words that were spewing from the former Third Division leader’s perpetual smirk. The hollows had been sent solely to get at him? What the hell was he trying to say? Ichimaru’s goal was to play a game with him? What nonsense was that?! It made no sense! None at all! It was...

Hitsugaya bit down on his bottom lip. Hard.

 _It was just the sort of thing Ichimaru would do._

“Well, if you’re done with your stupid games, I’m leaving,” Hitsugaya hissed, not trusting himself to open his mouth too wide for fear of completely losing the discipline he had worked so hard to drill into himself all these years.

“But the game hasn’ even started yet, little taichou.”

He had known this was coming, had known that somehow, someway, it was destined to come to this, but still, Hitsugaya felt he was suffocating. The few options he had left were all crumbling down around his feet. He could no longer pretend, no longer delude himself or avoid the subject. It was here to stay, and he had no choice but to stand here and discover the consequences of his carelessness. The arrancar. The scorpion tail zanpakutou release. The strange wound on his back.

“Poison.”

Ichimaru Gin’s eyes opened just a fraction, his childish grin widening. “Yup.”

“Get on with it then.” The coldness with which he spoke the words would have sent goose bumps spiraling up any lesser man’s neck, but despite what many people thought of him, Gin was no lesser man.

“If ya insist. It does two things. First, it leaches off’a yer reiatsu. You’ve prolly noticed that by now, ne? An’ second, it stimulates yer body’s pain receptors.” Hitsugaya did not like the sound of that at all but did his best to keep up his poker face, fists clenching and unclenching systematically as he listened. “Basically, yer body feels like it’s dyin’ when it’s not. And when it gets too bad... Boom." The man unfurled his hands in a sick mockery of an explosion. "Yer brain shuts down. No more shinigami.”

“So you’re going to sit back and watch me die.” Hitsugaya was very aware of Hyourinmaru’s absence. He could feel it in every word he spoke, every movement he made. But he would not show it. Never. Not in front of this man.

“Naw. What kinda game would it be if we already knew who’d win?”

“And how is it possible for me to win in such a situation?”

“Well, if ya stay in Soul Society, you’ll only have abou’ three days at most, but if ya go down ta the livin’ world, you’ll have up t’a month or two ‘cos of the differences between ‘em.”

“A month or two. Thirty to sixty days. To identify the poison and create an anti-toxin, right?” Though Hitsugaya phrased the sentence as a question, both present knew it needed no answer. “That would be no hard task for Kurotsuchi-taichou or Unohana-taichou. There must be more to it than that.” One who didn’t know Hitsugaya may have interpreted this statement as acceptance. It was far from it. He was challenging the man before him.

Apparently this pleased him because his smirk widened once again. “It’s untraceable ‘til the very end, so even if they believe ya, they won’ be able ta help ya. And without evidence, none a’them can go ta the livin’ world with ya anyway. But at least when they take a look at yer corpse, they’ll realize you weren’ insane after all.”

“And all of this... because you have a little excess of free time?” The incredulity of the accusation was masked by the seriousness with which the white crowned boy voiced it.

“Ara, ara. It’s a game, remember? Have fun.”

* * *

“Taichou? Taichou? If I told you I wasn’t wearing a bra, would you wake up then?”

Oh, hell. He had left one insane world only to return to another.

“Shut up, Matsumoto,” he croaked as he reached a hand up to his head. It didn’t feel quite as heated as before, but it was still feverish. That meant he still had at least some time left. He would have to figure out the best way to use that time....

“Hey now! You barf all over me, pass out, make me carry you all the way to Fourth Division, and then tell me to shut up?! You really are the meanest, cruelest, slave-driving-est captain in all of Seireitei! Why I oughta...”

Trying hard to disregard the fact that Matsumoto had carried him here, he tuned out her ranting and took a moment to get a hold of his bearings. He was in one of Fourth Division's private rooms often reserved for higher ranking patients. No one else was in the room with him besides his lieutenant. His frown deepened, keen eyes watching as she paced frustratedly back and forth, fuming away to her heart’s content.

Years of dealing with his lieutenant had done more than just emotionally scar him. He had learned more about her in the short time since he had been promoted than he had learned about anyone else in all of Soul Society, including Hinamori. He pulled himself sorely into a sitting position, taking in her expression. She was pouting as she ranted, her arms stretched across her chest, pushing up her nearly exposed breasts (a gesture, he had come to believe, she perpetrated entirely for that very effect). Her eyebrows were furrowed viciously, her cheeks flushed. She looked positively irate. But her eyes fluttered about the room, never really looking directly into his own.

She looked people in the eye when she was mad at them. It was the people she really cared about that she couldn’t meet face to face.

She was worried about him.

“Matsumoto...” he managed barely above a whisper.

She immediately ceased her verbal tirade. “Yes, Taichou?”

 _She was worried about him._

“I told you to shut up.”

He could not have that. Not right now.


End file.
